


Distressed Clothing

by Quefish



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Corporation changing, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Guess the Author fic, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Unintentional destruction of clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quefish/pseuds/Quefish
Summary: Fulfilling a dare had unintended and unforeseen consequences, but Crowley always takes care of Aziraphale's needs.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49
Collections: Guess the Author round 2





	Distressed Clothing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Good Omens Fic Writer Workshop Discord Guess the Author, round 2. The prompt was 'shirt'.

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, shock, dismay, amusement all warring for dominance on their features. Crowley broke first, trying to hide his chuckles among the sound of skittering buttons.

“This isn’t funny, Crowley!” Aziraphale was near shaking in annoyance. “It’s all right for you to to to … to _goad_ me into changing my corporation, but that dress shirt was an antique!”

“I didn’t tell you it had to be done right away, angel. You’re the one who didn’t think about the sartorial consequences before popping out a healthy bosom.” Crowley’s long fingers poked at the shirt sides that were hanging open, the buttons having given up the fight almost immediately. “S’nice though. Lovely set you’ve made.”

Aziraphale smacked at Crowley’s hands peevishly. “Hands off, foul fiend! I’ll never be able to find replacements for those buttons!”

Crowley rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, a tidy pile of buttons appearing in Aziraphale’s palm. “There. Do you honestly forget that you can do proper magic?”

“Says the demon who forgot that he didn’t _actually_ need to get stuck in M25 traffic?” Aziraphale drolly shot back as he counted the buttons. “And that is all well and good, but now how do I repair it? I can’t sew, and I don’t assume you do?”

“You do know they’ve these humans to do that, tailors?” 

“Yes, but in the same style as the original methods? They’d all mismatch!”

Crowley rolled his eyes again. “Give me the shirt, angel.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up, hopeful as he immediately stripped off to hand over the shirt. He was confused as Crowley took it and headed out the door. “Crowley, where are you …?”

“Well, I can’t sew, you can’t, so I need to call in a couple favors. Back soon.” He shut the door behind him and then popped his head back in. “Oh, may want to find something else to wear, can’t just be standing about with your tits out these days.”

Crowley’s cackle echoed over Aziraphale’s gasp at the realization that he was topless and he locked the bookshop door behind him.

Aziraphale had settled in with a modest tea and good book while Crowley was off on his errand. While the shirt wasn’t nearly as old as his coat, he did like it. It was perfectly worn and soft. He’d barely gotten through two chapters before the Bentley could be heard roaring up to its parking spot. He set his tea aside and watched the door.

Crowley came in, not looking terribly pleased, but also not looking terribly put out. He handed Aziraphale the shirt, which was repaired perfectly.

“Oh, Crowley. How did you manage it?!” Aziraphale held the shirt out happily, miracling a fancy hanger for it.

“Your tailor, the gent round the corner in about 1892? Naughty boy, he was. Long story, but I happened to know exactly where he’s been spending his time recently, so I paid him a visit.”

Aziraphale surreptitiously sniffed at the shirt and caught the distinct whiff of brimstone. A quick twitch of his nose later had the shirt smelling fresh again. He snapped it into his wardrobe and reached for Crowley’s hand. He gave it a squeeze before giving him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley blushed. “Welcome, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always a delight! Comments will be answered after the collection is revealed.


End file.
